


Destroying me, destroying you

by hesnotadream



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drug Addict Bucky, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugs, Hurt Bucky, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Steve, I posteted this in like, M/M, alternate universe drugs, and one of them is in italian, but every fandom need to suffer a little, everyone is hurt, i don't know how to tag, two other sites, with two other pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 23:05:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11747070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesnotadream/pseuds/hesnotadream
Summary: He was everything to me, but he was nothing compared to the ecstasy.





	Destroying me, destroying you

Steve was waiting for Bucky when he got home. Bucky didn't speak to Steve, and Steve didn't speak to Bucky; they both knew what was going on. There was no point in talking. Glassy eyes watched Bucky as he walked straight upstairs, and Steve forlornly traipsed after him. He followed Bucky to the bedroom door but stopped there.

He had tears in his eyes as Bucky took the ziplock bag of coloured pills out of his sock drawer. he couldn't think anymore. He needed the rush. He needed the drugs.

"Buck, please," Steve said in a small voice. "Don't. You don't need this."

"This is all I have," Bucky said numbly, tipping three little pills into his hand.

Steve looked hurt, eyes rimmed with red. "You have me."

Bucky said nothing. He could feel his heart beating in his throat, the pound in his ears. Everything tasted metallic and his limbs were heavy and cold and empty. He needed the rush. he needed the drugs.

Steve snatched his wrist when Bucky tried to bring the pills to his lips. The chalky blue and white tablets fell to the floor, Bucky’s happiness fell to the floor, and his heart dropped.

"Bucky," Steve said, voice shaking. He kissed Bucky’s cheek softly. "I love you," he said.  
Bucky didn't reply.

Steve kissed his other cheek. His nose, his forehead, his jaw, his ear. "I love you so much," he whispered. "I need you."

"I need..." Bucky trailed off. Everything was going a bit blurred. He needed to be happy. Steve could– (could he?) –Steve could make me happy.  
But Steve couldn't give him the ecstasy. The escape. The rush. He needed the rush.

"I need the pills," he said in a low voice, and stepped away from Steve. Steve let go of his arm, the most heartbroken expression on his face. He pressed his lips together and tears slid down his cheeks, sticking his long eyelashes together and leaving damp trails of Bucky’s destruction down his face. He was destroying Steve. He didn't care.

He needed the pills.

Bucky knelt down on the floor unsteadily to pick up the lost tablets. He tipped two into his mouth, swallowing them dry and feeling the powdery bitterness coat his tongue. They caught in his throat. It hurt. He didn't care.

Steve was still crying. He was sobbing now, grasping Bucky’s arm again and pleading him to stop. He looked beautiful like that. Well, he always looked beautiful. Bucky wished he could stop, just for him. But he needed to be happy.

"I love you," Bucky said quietly. "I'm sorry." It sounded quiet in his ears but he could have yelled it for all he knew. Everything was blurring and brighter than it should be. He could feel the rush already. Finally. Finally.

His whole body felt warm and lit up, and he was happy again. He was smiling. Steve was still crying.

Bucky felt heavy but lighter than air. He was elated, and everything bad was disappearing. He wanted more of this.

He fumbled with the plastic bag and tipped another two pills into his hand then into his mouth. He could feel them going down his throat, down to his stomach, and it was all horribly sickening all of a sudden. He was shaking, too hot and too cold at the same time, and the rush was dissipating. He felt ill.

"Bucky." Steve took Bucky’s arm firmly, suddenly more worried than angry. "Bucky, sit down."

Bucky didn't want to sit down. He wanted his happiness back. He tried to pick up the pills again but his hands didn't work properly and everything was defocused and going white at the edges. He crumpled to the floor limply.

His chest hurt. He didn't think he was breathing very much. He was vaguely aware of Steve sobbing and clutching at his shirt, telling Bucky that he was a fucking idiot and he loved him.

Bucky wanted to tell him that he knew he was an idiot and he was so sorry it hurt. He wanted to tell him how much he loved him, and he wanted to go back to five minutes ago and flush the pills away and kiss Steve and apologise over and over and possibly cry.

The ecstasy was intense but fleeting, and sometimes it was horrible. Steve was always there, always perfect, never hurting. Bucky was so stupid.

He couldn't see at all anymore. He could barely feel Steve shaking him and trying to wake him up. He was lost.  
Steve was lost too now. Bucky had wrecked him.

He was destroying him by destroying himself, and now he was done with destroying himself, he was falling to pieces. Bucky had broken the man he loved, broken him down to an empty, wretched shell of a boy. He was horrible. He felt horrible. He wanted to go back and change everything.

But even more, he wanted the ecstasy.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think, sorry for the mistakes, it's un-betaed


End file.
